Wing It
by Sakebu
Summary: The stars were aligned for impending disaster. He had crashed from the heavens with the gracefulness of a blind turkey and no one wanted to take care of him. It was then that my brain decided to reject ever knowing any sanity and I blurted, "I'll take him."


**Chapter 1: Boom**

* * *

It could only be a matter of seconds until Smokey's chorus of rumbles, rasps and grunts would rouse Pandora's wrath.

The tyrant's humungous yellow eyes glared ceaselessly at the snoring dragon.

I watched Pandora's stubby legs hoist up the beefy mass that made up the rest of her body. Her forked tail whipped from left to right as she dipped her head down low, sank her claws deep into the bed sheets and readied herself for the attack.

I knew what was coming. I reached behind my back in search of my pillow to use as a shield. When my hand fell over something feathery instead, I made the mistake of turning my head. This was all it took Pandora to shriek some sort of beastly declaration of war and then she was airborne.

Her aim was flawless. She hooked her claws right into Smokey's nostrils, drawing a frantic roar from the Charizard's throat as he thrashed into consciousness. His wing came out of nowhere and struck me right in the face, sending me rolling off the bed with a scream.

My bedroom door swung open.

"What on earth is going on in—_Gahmmph!_"

I looked up just in time to see Smokey successfully wrenching his ambusher from his snout, which resulted in my mom getting a face full of Pandora's hairy butt. The chunky Purugly landed on the floor with a thump, seemingly unscathed.

Mom batted the puffy cat hairs off of her face, hacking and spluttering. Then her mouth fell open as the jungle that was my room unfolded before her eyes.

The first thing that no one could miss, was obviously Smokey. He attempted to hide his head under one of my socks but apparently failed to notice his master plan left the rest of his colossal body completely exposed. Then the two Venomoth enjoying an all you can eat buffet of my curtains. The Aipom trying to seduce its own reflection in my mirror. The Buizel with my underwear wrapped around its head.

The small gathering of Wurmple pursuing an artistic career by repainting my walls with gleamy tracks of slime.

"Morning mommy." I waved, immediately followed up by a squawky "_morning mommy_" from the Chatot I had accidentally yanked off the bed, now perched in my lap.

Mommy lost it.

Her chest rose and swelled to the size of a watermelon as she sucked in all the air her lungs could contain. Her finger simultaneously sliced through the air like a knife, abruptly slamming to a stop in the door opening just before a glass-shattering explosion of sound hurled itself at us from the depths of her throat.

"_OUT_, _OUT_, _**OUT!**_"

The beasts of the jungle split.

Then, somewhere about six miles away, a male Exploud snapped to attention and set off on a wondrous journey to find true love.

"You are supposed to help your father domesticate them, not let them wreck the house!" Mom clung to the curtains, mourning over some puncture wounds that bled sunlight all over the room.

"I _have_ domesticated them. They're not eating anyone, are they?" I muttered sourly.

"They ate my _curtains_! And just look at what they did to the walls. Oh my God, the _walls_…" Mom faltered, cradling the bottom half of her face in her hands. Her rosy cheeks began to pale. "Oh, my heart cannot take this. Oh God." She began to rock herself back and forth.

"Mom?" I asked unsurely.

She waved a hand at me vaguely, eyes haunted by a streak of Wurmple juice.

"Go outside. I need a minute. No, an hour. Forever. Oh God."

Despite my best efforts she declined all offers to help her clean my bedroom. Instead she fled from the room so I could change.

I swapped my sleepwear for a loose, white hoodie and army green shorts. Next I headed for the bathroom to comb my hair and brush my teeth. By the time I made it back into the hallway, I caught mom dragging another endless mantra of _'oh Gods'_ up the stairs. I also noticed she had two big buckets of sloshing water in her hands and a screeching, sand covered Eevee squished tightly underneath her armpit.

Once she stood face to face with the slimy walls again, mom dropped her buckets on the floor with a _splash_. "Bath time…" she murmured.

"Vee! _Vee!_" the fluffball objected, furiously kicking its hind legs.

Mom stretched out a long leg towards the door. After a tap of her heel it fell shut behind them, silencing the furry sponge's protests.

I took off.

My first objective was to track down the mob that had infiltrated my bedroom overnight. I thundered down the stairs with every intention to charge through the front door, but I slowed to a walk when I suddenly found myself submerged in a sugary waft of what smelled like instant diabetes. This could mean only one thing.

Mom made breakfast.

Which in turn meant that the founder of the mob had to be near. Or more specifically, he had to be inside the kitchen. With my nose stuck up high, I trailed after the lingering scent of freshly baked goodies until I reached a half open door: the kitchen door.

My fingers curled around the doorknob and I leaned in close. Noisy chewing sounds spewed from the kitchen, confirming my earlier suspicions.

I flung open the door without warning.

"Busted!" I boomed, pinning the culprit on the spot with a finger.

And sure enough, there he was. Thick smears of syrup stuck to his chin like a golden beard. His claw held an open bottle of chocolate sauce over his head, as if he'd been on the verge of pouring it down his throat. A half chewed waffle jutted out from between his lips, giving him a ridiculous looking kissy face. Finally, he was standing over a plate of waffles drenched in an absurd amount of…everything.

I groaned. "Smokey, I know you love my mom's cooking and all but you can't go around raiding the kitchen." I pulled a waffle from between the pile and tried to shake off the lava of chocolate sauce, honey syrup and God knows what else he put on there.

At that exact moment the Charizard's nostrils decided to explode around a mouthful of breakfast, spraying little wet crumbs of waffle and ropey strings of dragon snot all over the table. And my hand.

I blinked. "Boy, you're really disgusting sometimes."

Smokey huffed.

S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S

After cleaning the kitchen table to spare my mom another heart attack, I walked Smokey back to the stables of dad's ranch. It was a simple route; just one line straight ahead through the grass field behind the house. This was probably the reason why it was so easy for the mob to break into my room whenever they pleased.

Amidst the grazing Ponyta and Miltank I took a glance at the leader of the mob.

Smokey had been with me ever since I was a child. He was one of my dad's strongest pokémon. Dad caught him during his childhood trip to Kanto when the dragon was still a Charmander. Most people were surprised when they heard that Smokey was already nearly fifty years old though. He was too goofy for that.

Mom used to tell me stories about how Smokey took it upon himself to teach me the art of spitting fire when I was a baby. He never quite succeeded in that, though apparently I did spew pureed carrots all over my parents. They found this funny for about a week, but not so much anymore after two months.

According to mom, Smokey also wanted to teach me how to fly once I could walk. Dad managed to convince him that it would be better to put my flying lessons on hold until I grew wings, though.

Even after waiting for 16 years, the gentle giant was probably still patiently expecting two magnificent drapes of feathers to randomly burst out of my shoulder blades.

Nevertheless, Smokey had always been a loyal babysitter. He never really quit the job. He still tried to follow me around everywhere, even into the bathroom (much to dad's amusement) and he still randomly snuck into my room in the middle of the night to check up on me (much to mom's dismay).

The only downside of his sleepovers was that he developed a habit of bringing over friends, or the mob as I called them, after I turned fourteen.

Smokey suddenly halted and jerked his head to our left.

I quirked my eyebrows at him and turned my head curiously. A strong wind shoved into our backs then, forcing the grass around us to lay flat under its weight. My attention wavered for a split second when sand particles flew into my eyes. Between rapid blinks I managed to catch flickers of the wooden fence separating the grass field from a sand path and two teenage boys, one taller than the other.

Luke and his little brother?

I rubbed my eyes furiously when the sand wouldn't stop irritating my eyes. I blinked again.

The smaller boy crouched down.

Another blink.

The boy's hand swept over the ground and snatched something up.

I pulled my arm back from my face.

The boy sprang back to his full height, a black rock clenched in his fist. He spun towards me, took aim and threw the rock straight towards my face.

Several things happened shortly after one another.

First, flashes of blue, yellow and orange ripped through the grass on either side of me and joined together for a fraction of a second, only to smash something in front of me so violently that the force of the collision sent me staggering backwards.

Second, black splinters were slung in all directions as the earth beneath me literally shook me off of my feet when something big and heavy crashed into the meadow with a loud _'Tooorrr!'_

Third, Luke and his brother ran away screaming as an immense cloud of fire surged towards them. It swallowed everything it touched, leaving a path of smouldering ashes that ate right through the fence.

And fourth, amidst the terror-stricken cows and ponies, a not so very gentle hand descended to yank me up.

"Spineless pricks." My rescuer scoffed. I recognized his voice instantly.

He must have experienced some sort of grow spurt in the last two months because I had to tip my head back to look at his face.

His wide blue eyes gazed coolly into the distance, reflecting in the sunlight like frosty gemstones. His golden locks danced majestically in the wind. The harsh summer sun had bestowed a deep, manly tan upon his once virgin white skin, but his build had remained graceful and slender. His lips still looked like two red rose petals too.

In all honesty, he still looked like a fairytale princess to me. I wasn't going to tell Cameron that, though. He probably assumed his looks had toughened up after his long journey through Sinnoh.

"I see someone's evolved," I observed as I took an appreciative look at Lex. He had been a Shinx last time I saw him. Now a larger feline with a rich black mane sat before me proudly. My eyes shifted to Smokey. The Charizard shook gritty dust from his tail, telling me all I needed to know. I smiled to myself. "He's not as fast as Smokey, though."

Cameron lowered his cool gaze to me. "Imagine how much faster Smokey would be if it weren't for you," he responded crisply.

Before I could allow the remark to sink in properly, another familiar voice intervened.

"Hey now, let's not ruin our cosy little reunion!" It was Peter.

Peter slid off of his Staraptor's back, followed suit by a tall Blaziken. He thanked the latter for his work and then he held out a pokéball. The pokémon disappeared in a soft beam of light.

A moment later I found myself squished against Peter's chest. He smelled like burnt sausages and sweat. Lots of sweat. Lots of _old_ sweat.

"Oh my God, when was the last time you showered?!" I demanded.

Unfortunately that only made Peter laugh and force my nose deeper into his shirt.

"Do you like it? I'm gonna advertise it as a cologne and call it 'Twenty Days Old Man Juice'. It's gonna be a hit with the ladies for sure."

"Twenty days old—that's just…_eww!_" Another wave of laughter gushed out of his throat when I reeled back from him as fast as I could.

Cameron called his Luxio back to his side. He stuffed one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and looked over at us with a bored look on his face. "I'm going home. My family is expecting me."

Peter nodded his understanding. He gestured for my general direction with a sway of his thumb. "Okay. I'm gonna stay with squirt for a little while longer."

"Later then."

"Later!"

Cameron's blue eyes swept over my face with the same iciness they had reserved for me for two years now. Then he turned on his heel, his fancy shirt fluttering after him in the wind.

Peter threw a look at me that I had come to know well in these sort of situations, to which I shook my head. As I always did.

I began walking towards the stables near dad's ranch with Smokey close behind me. Peter recalled his Staraptor and jogged after us.

From the corner of my eye I looked at Smokey. A gentle breeze caressed over his orange scales. The dragon made a noise of contentment. To catch more of the cool air, he spread out his right wing. The only wing he had. I stared at it for a long time.

All of a sudden Peter stopped walking and looked at me as if he suddenly remembered something important.

"By the way, is your dad gonna kill me for burning down part of his land?"

S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S

Dad didn't kill Peter after we told him about what happened.

Instead he was rewarded for his act of flaming heroism with a hard pat on his back and the 387th instalment of dad reminiscing about 'the good old days.'

In the middle of dad raving about giant bugs with laser eyes that could chew psychic gods to death, mom came in with dad's lunch.

As soon as she caught sight of Peter, the sandwiches in her hands fell to the ground. Her eyes glittered in delight. It was terrifying.

"Petey, is that _you!_" He had zero chances of escape.

Mom zoomed towards the boy like a Beedrill. She closed her arms around him in a vicelike grip and buried her head in his brown hair as if it were made of honey. Except that it didn't smell quite as sweet.

Somehow I managed to steal Peter away from her before she could talk him into taking a bath at our house.

I seized his wrist and bolted for the exit. Even as mom tried to lure me back with an offer to serve us her homemade vanilla cheesecake with cherry topping, I kept running. Smokey probably already devoured the last pieces anyway.

We made it to the edge of Eterna Forest, where the trees began to lean in close to each other and thick leafy bushes lined up one after the other. Only then I noticed that Peter was completely out of breath because his dead weight jerked me backwards all of a sudden.

I let go of his wrist. Peter bent forward, his hands placed over his knees. I could hear him sucking in desperate gulps of air. When he straightened himself again, his forehead glistened with sweat and his cheeks were all red and puffy. I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

He dropped to his knees in the grass and let himself fall onto his back dramatically.

"That's what you get for letting Shavonne carry you around everywhere," I teased, referring to his Staraptor.

Peter responded by grabbing my shoe. With a quick jerk of his hand he robbed me of my balance and my dignity as I landed face first into a berry bush. I resurfaced from the leaves with a gasp. Peter looked pleased.

I plucked a twig out of my hair. "So you caught a Blaziken," I said.

"Traded it. His name is Gustavo."

"Oh, right."

Most of Peter's team consisted of pokémon he obtained through trades. The only exceptions were Quinn, his Torterra, and Mitch, his Rampardos. He got Quinn as his starter from dad's ranch when he was a Turtwig. Mitch was given to him by his parents to celebrate his fifteenth birthday, still a Cranidos at that time.

Peter rolled over onto his side to face me. "Hey, what was that stuff on the field all about earlier? Are they still harassing you?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

An annoyed look crossed his features at my vague reply. I ignored it.

"I could beat them up for you, you know," he offered with a boyish grin.

I sighed heavily at him. "And then what? They'd see it as some pity act from their precious hero and come at me twice as hard as they do now."

When he didn't reply, I turned my head to see Peter staring at the ground with a guilty look on his usually happy face.

"Sorry." I whispered.

But it didn't make what I said any less true.

Peter Goodwin was a well-known name in Eterna City.

When Peter was a student at trainer school, the teacher said he excelled in anything combat-related. Which was basically a nice way of saying Peter butchered all of his classmates during battle classes and made them weep.

Peter told me he got so good at battles because he was very interested in reading about pokémon's natural weaknesses. Mhmm... The only book I ever caught him sticking his nose in was one of his older brother's dirty magazines. It looked more like a picture book than anything.

Anyhow, around thirteen years old, Peter officially joined the pokémon trainer club. People had high expectations of him when he set off to beat up his first Gym leader. He returned after only a week with a shiny Coal badge pinned to his jacket. He had four badges before he turned fourteen, which apparently was a good thing.

My parents also knew my friend Peter very well. I'm pretty sure they both loved him as much as they loved me.

Except Peter had dreams. Big ones. He dreamed of travelling to faraway places and discovering things no one had ever seen before. He dreamed of collecting all the badges of Sinnoh. He dreamed of conquering the Sinnoh league so he could reign as the new champion.

He had dreams that my dad could relate to because he had been a trainer in the past. He had dreams which my mom could swoon over because he sounded like the dashing adventurers in her romantic novels.

Whereas I was quite content with staying at home.

I liked helping dad out with the pokémon he bred. I liked cleaning out the stalls, grooming the pokémon, collecting their eggs and wrestling disobedient furballs all day. I _liked_ the daily routine of my chores.

Maybe that was part of the problem.

Like every child I attended pokémon school until I was 10, but I had very few things in common with my age group. For instance, I wasn't possessed by the need to abduct every non-suspecting creature I came across from its nest and live in the wilderness forever.

Almost every kid in Eterna City seemed hell-bent on getting their trainer license before they turned twelve. It was their ticket to a life brimming with _excitement._ And bigass mosquitoes.

I wasn't dedicated to some ulterior goal. Heck, I was hopeless at battling anyway.

A harmless Pidgey once became a force of nature under my command. I fed it too much candy before my mock battle. Apparently it couldn't handle the sugar rush, so it blew the roof off the place with a tornado. No one died, but Angelique and Macy tragically broke their nails. My classmates shunned me after that.

Peter on the other hand was someone they looked up to even now. If he became the next champion, he could be the one to put Eterna on the map. I'd probably be more likely to wipe it off the face of the earth, if you asked them.

I couldn't say I blamed them for thinking like that.

Not after what happened to Smokey.

"Hey, look over there."

I blinked, shaken from my thoughts by Peter's insisting hand.

"What?" I looked over my shoulder.

Through the leaves of the berry bushes I saw a big blue pokémon in the clearing of the forest. Crouched in a half battle stance, it appeared to be scanning the surrounding area.

A large shadow swept over the pokémon. Once. Twice. And then—

_"Skaaa!" _

My hands automatically moved to cover my ears when a horrible shrieking sound that sounded like grinding metal lashed out at us from above. Alarmed by the screech, the blue pokémon snapped its head up, thrusting a long, pronged horn into the air. But it was too late.

Something fast and silvery plunged down from the sky to slice at the beetle-like creature with a clanking row of razor-sharp blades. The deadly edges swiped faster than their target could move and succeeded in drawing a red line across its chest. The wounded pokémon leapt away and landed near a tree.

"Hera!" It cried angrily at its assaulter.

The latter, obviously a bird, descended on the ground several feet away from its prey. I was quite amazed with the way it looked. The bird was tall, with a long blue neck and long legs. It appeared to be clad entirely in a steel-like armour that shimmered in the sunlight. Fresh blood splattered onto the grass as the bird readjusted its wings.

"A Skarmory. They're incredibly rare around these parts." Peter whispered to me. He carefully slid a hand into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew an ultra ball.

I looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you going to try to catch it?"

He answered me with a cheeky grin. "Well, a Heracross would actually be a nice addition to the team too, but I'm just gonna wait and see which one hits the dust first. Saves me the trouble."

Such an honourable trainer he was.

I rolled my eyes and quickly returned my attention to the wild pokémon.

The Skarmory was leering intensely at the Heracross. It seemed to be concentrated on detecting a weak point in its foe's defences. But even though the bleeding cut in its chest looked incredibly painful, the Heracross exuded anything but weakness. With a defiant roar it clenched its claws and charged with its massive horn ready to stab the metal bird.

The bird flapped up and easily danced around the attack in the air, cackling arrogantly as the blue beetle stumbled past it. What it hadn't expected though, was that its opponent had meant for the attack to fail. The Skarmory squawked in bewilderment when the beetle swerved around abruptly and grabbed one of its clawed feet.

The Heracross tightened its hold and promptly began to swing the shrieking bird around in the air, steadily edging dangerously close to a tree. As soon as the bird caught onto its plan, it flapped up its wings with all its might, just long enough for it to peck at the bug's eye with a sharply pointed beak.

Its last resort must have worked. The beetle relinquished its hold on the bird in favour of covering its eye.

The Skarmory decided to waste no more time. It lunged into the air with a force so powerful that the wind reached all the way to our hiding spot and blew back our hair. At the peak of its flight the metallic beast pressed its wings close to its body. It swooped back down swiftly, blades of steel emitting a white light.

At that fateful moment I felt something warm slithering across my back. I turned my head to look into the beady yellow eyes of the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.

I couldn't help myself. I screamed.

The Skarmory jerked its head in mid-flight at the sound of my voice, losing its concentration right on the verge of delivering the final blow to its opponent. The Heracross took the opportunity to turn the tables.

Once the distracted bird was close enough, the beetle seized both of its wings in an unrelenting grip.

First I heard small cracks, but as the fighter began to apply more pressure, a terrible snapping noise pierced through the woods. The Skarmory screeched in agony as the Heracross brutally tore off—no, _crushed_—half of its steel wings with a resounding crunch. Then the bug rammed into the helpless bird with its huge horn before tossing it up into the air like a ragdoll.

I gaped, paralyzed, as the once almighty Skarmory crashed into a thorn bush with the gracefulness of a blind turkey.

The Burmy that had spooked me crawled away silently.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Reviews are love.


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